Glass  Half Empty
by Blaque-Inque
Summary: Dath'ri Ma'trille is a magic-wielder  sp? , who has been a requested presence by the High Lord of Hell. She meets Daemon, Lucivar, and of course, Jaenelle...amongst others. Teviathan Sword is Kythian, a race that isn't believed to have ever lived...


"**Glass Half Empty"**

**A Black Jewels Trilogy Fan Fiction**

***Disclaimer: I DO NOT own any part of the Black Jewels Trilogy!**

***A/N: Dath'ri Ma'trille and Teviathan Sword are my own original characters; the Den'rai race is my own.**

Chapter One

Rain poured heavily, streaks of lightning and roars of thunder following soon after, its drops distorting the outside view through the diamond-paned window. A pair of clear purple eyes watched the downpour, cold and calculating. As the individual sank deeper into contemplation, a brief knock and then a creak of an opening door shattered their absorption. Before the person standing in the doorway could open their mouth, the individual standing in front of the window spoke.

"What now?" they demanded.

The person at the doorway swallowed nervously. "Your presence has been requested by the High Lord of Hell."

Pivoting with catlike grace, the young woman faced the messenger. She raised an arched eyebrow in question. "Who?"

"The High Lord—"

"I heard that part. Who is he?" the young woman inquired.

"He is the Steward of the Dark Court, which is ruled by a Queen of the name Jaenelle Angelline, who also rules all of Kaeleer." The man shrugged his shoulders. "There should be a stagecoach waiting for you outside."

The young woman grabbed her hooded full-length cloak, kissed her pet, a wolf cub, Shadowfang, goodbye and headed outside towards the stagecoach. Before she had gotten to the coach's door, Dath'ri took a quick look at herself in the mirror. She was brown-skinned with shoulder-length dark-green hair and, of course, purple eyes; she also had a slender build.

With herself scrutiny out of the way, she headed back outside, and got in the stagecoach. As the coach lurched forward, beginning the journey to this Kaeleer place to see some High Lord of Hell, Dath'ri wondered as to what this person wanted her for.

Saetan, Daemon and Lucivar were in the midst of an important discussion when Jaenelle entered the study. All three men stopped in mid sentence, their focus now turned to the woman standing in the doorway.

"Yes, Jaenelle?" Saetan said, wondering why his wonderful daughter and Queen had such a perplexed expression on her face.

"Who is the person that you required their presence?" Jaenelle asked.

Saetan bit back a sigh of relief; pleased to know that, currently at least, there wasn't anything colossal that needed his attention. He cleared his throat, and then answered her pending question.

"Ah, yes. This young woman's name is Dath'ri Ma'trille. She isn't from here, or any of the other Realms for that matter; she's from a completely different world, in fact," he added.

Jaenelle, now completely enthralled with this new individual who was arriving sometime today, began asking question after question, determined to figure out more about this person. "What race is she? Does she posses any magic? What is her Gift if she has one?"

Saetan's face contorted into an expression of seriousness. "Dath'ri is of the Den'rai race." He instantly realized that as soon as the statement had left his mouth, he was no longer gazing upon his daughter, but at Witch, Queen of the Darkness.

"Is that so?" Witch said, in a disturbingly calm tone.

The room was becoming colder and colder at an alarming rate. Lucivar shifted into a fighting stance, his membranous wings extending to their full length. Despite the Eyrien's hot temper, Lucivar shuddered subtly. He didn't have to look at his half-brother, Daemon, to know where his train of thought was leading.

Daemon slipped his hands into his trouser pockets, his eyes getting that infamous bored, sleepy look. His glazed eyes flicked to Witch, who was in deep contemplation.

"And this proves to be a problem, why?" he asked in his deep, cultured voice.

After another moment of silence, Witch responded to Daemon's question. "According to what I know about the Den'rai, they are a cold, calculating people. They have no remorse for those they hurt or kill. Another source suggests that these people are morbidly self-absorbed and are only concerned with their own personal gain."

"Sound like a bunch of pricks to me," Lucivar grumbled.

Just as Daemon was about to say something, there was a knock at the study door. When the door opened, standing there was Dath'ri Ma'trille.

Daemon smiled wickedly at the young woman, who reflexively called on her Shadow Magic. "So, you enjoy killing people, is that right?" he asked.

"Who are you?" Dath'ri questioned with a sharp and venomous tone in her voice.

"I? I'm the last thing you're going to see before you die."

"Really? I highly doubt that."

Daemon laughed maliciously. "Would you like a demonstration?"

The young woman bared her teeth in a feral smile. "Bring it!"

Lucivar jumped in, ready to back his brother if necessary.

"Hold," Witch said.

No one moved. In fact, the only movement was from the curtains shifting from the light breeze outside.

Dath'ri sniffed. She glanced at the…person or creature that had intervened, purple eyes analyzing. After a moment, the young woman headed over to the desk of which Saetan was sitting behind, and narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"I received a letter stating that you needed to see me, sir?" Dath'ri said.

The older man leaned forward in his chair, gold orbs focused on the individual in front of him. He discerned that there was something about this young woman that set her apart from the average Den'rai. It appeared that Dath'ri wasn't a heartless, cold-blooded killer. She presented herself as a seemingly mild-mannered individual. Before Saetan could answer the young woman's question, an individual appeared in front of the doorway.

"Ah. Teviathan," Saetan said, mild curiosity pooled in his gold eyes. "How are things going for you?"

"Teviathan," Jaenelle said happily.

Daemon nodded; Lucivar smirked.

Teviathan shrugged. "They're going."

Teviathan was pale-skinned with elbow-length jet-black hair, startling ice-blue eyes and a slightly muscular frame. He donned a blood-red silk shirt, covered with a black velvet blazer that hid a silver pocket watch, and a pair of black trousers. The young man glanced in Dath'ri's direction, raised an arched eyebrow in question, and then focused his attention on the High Lord.

Saetan cleared his throat. "Teviathan, this is Dath'ri. Dath'ri, Teviathan," he added as he tipped his head to indicate the Den'rai's presence.

Teviathan narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Mm. What did you need me for, sir?"

The High Lord gestured over to Dath'ri. "I need you to keep an eye on her."

Dath'ri gawked, glaring at the man sitting behind the desk. "I am not a child!"

"No one said that you were," Teviathan said flatly.

"And no one asked for _your_ input," the Den'rai retorted.

The young man shrugged nonchalantly; he looked at Saetan. "I shall keep her out of discord."

The High Lord glanced at Dath'ri. "You will have to answer to Teviathan during your stay here. If anything goes beyond his control, you will have to answer to me."

Dath'ri sighed, exasperated and out of options; she nodded.

"Now then. With that out of the way, welcome to Kaeleer, Dath'ri Ma'trille," Jaenelle added. She smiled, and then turned and exited the room.

Dath'ri grumbled momentarily. She shot a menacing glance at Teviathan when he told her to follow him. Without saying a word, she followed the young man out of the study.

As they walked down the corridors, Teviathan made acknowledgements to those whom they passed. Chaosti stopped in the hall when he noticed Teviathan. He looked at Teviathan, trying to stare him down.

Teviathan stared back, gaze never faltering. As he felt the dark power surge through his veins, and locked away his emotions, Gabrielle appeared…Chaosti's wife.

Gabrielle looked at Chaosti then at Teviathan; she flicked a glance at Dath'ri. "Hell's fire, Chaosti. If you and Teviathan are going to go at each other, could you at least do it somewhere that isn't going to bother anyone?"

Chaosti's psychic scent instantly changed from anger to pleasure. It was as if Teviathan no longer mattered or existed to him.

This, of course, was fine by Teviathan. He motioned for Dath'ri to follow him yet again. Once they had reached their destination, Dath'ri's quarters, the young man stepped away from the Den'rai.

"This is where you shall be staying while on your visit here," Teviathan said, gesturing towards the closed door. He opened the door and let Dath'ri walk passed him and into the room.

The bedroom was spacious, with lavish carpets and beautiful cherry wood chairs and a large dresser. A freestanding mirror was located next to the dresser. Across from the mirror was a closet with a sliding door. The bed was a relatively good size, with a wine-and-gold colored comforter, accompanied with imported cotton sheets. It was a nice room.

But everything had to go, Dath'ri decided as she vanished everything, and summoned a black marble dresser, a bed with pitch-black covers and blood red sheets and pillows. A small triangle table settled next to the bed; a black-and-silver jewelry box sat atop the table.

"There. Much better," Dath'ri said, as she looked the refurbished room over. She nodded in satisfaction.

Teviathan softly cleared his throat, startling the young woman a bit, for she had forgotten that he was still there.

"The bathroom is nice," Dath'ri admitted. She frowned and then looked at Teviathan. "So, where's your room?"

"Why?" Teviathan questioned, amusement lacing his voice.

"Well, you _are_ supposed to be 'keeping an eye' on me, aren't you?" she said. "I figured that it would be somewhere near mine, so if you choose to bother me for no reason with this 'watching' thing, you will be able to find me easily enough."

"It is adjacent to the bathroom, thereby linking your room with my own."

Dath'ri stared at him, eyes wide with disbelief.

Teviathan chuckled. "Well, what did you expect?"

"I don't know; certainly not this."

The young man shrugged; he bowed gracefully soon after. "I bid you farewell for now, Dath'ri Ma'trille." With that, he vanished.

Teviathan sank into a nearby reading chair, and sighed. He shed both his blazer and shirt, and then looked at himself in the mirror. The front on him was fine, but the back…

There was a titanium plate that had been inserted near the base of his spine, allowing him to survive attacks from the air or from behind. His back muscles began to twitch, harder and harder until Teviathan was thrashing.

Dath'ri looked over to the adjacent bedroom as she heard a scream of rage and pain.

It was coming from Teviathan's room. The young woman waited for a heartbeat before approachingthe door, and eventually opening it.

There stood a young man with a silver chalice in his grasp, blood-drenched black angel wings expanded to their full size.

The young man was Teviathan.

Sensing another presence nearby, Teviathan spun towards the door that led to the bathroom he shared with Dath'ri. He realized whom it was that stood in the half open doorway; his gazed was locked on her, never faltering. Rising to his feet slowly, he began to approach her. _Run, _he thought. _Be afraid. Be afraid of me._

Dath'ri didn't budge; she merely stood there, eyes patient and never judging, never clouding with fear.

The young man felt his interest sharpen, but locked it away instantly.

The Den'rai stepped inside the room, and closed the door.  
_Run, _Teviathan thought vehemently. _Why won't you run? Is it because…? _He brushed the possibility—and the hope—away. Once reaching Dath'ri, Teviathan stopped and simply gazed at her with those haunting ice-blue eyes. He saw something flicker in her eyes; it was gone just as fast as it had appeared, never blunting the young man's sharpened interest. So much did he want to say something, but couldn't, so he closed his mouth.

"Are you all right?" Dath'ri asked.

"What are you talking about?" replied Teviathan.

The young woman lightly touched one of the bloodied wings; she jumped when it moved. "You're hurt," she answered, showing him her blood-kissed fingers.

Teviathan blinked. "Oh, that. It's nothing."

"Liar," Dath'ri said too softly.

Teviathan raised an eyebrow. "I'm fine. I promise."

After several moments of contemplation, the Den'rai nodded, choosing to believe the truth that was also a lie. She shrugged. "If you say so."

Teviathan retrieved the glass, and set it on the dresser. His ice-blue eyes became distant and cloudy.

_There is no hope for me,_ he thought. _I'm chained to this gift that is also a curse. It is interesting how Dath'ri did not run from me. I sensed no fear from her whatsoever; perhaps it's just my hope for people, for anyone, to understand. I want them to be able to gaze upon me without fear._ The young man lightly placed his hands on Dath'ri's shoulders, and took several steps away from her in order to get a better look.

The young woman's hair was pulled up, a red-and-black clip holding it in place. She unfastened the clip, allowing her hair to flow down her shoulders. Her purple eyes glittered with curiosity, a smile crossing her face. The tunic she was wearing gently hugged her body, revealing just enough of a figure that Teviathan silently approved. So much about her seemed to fascinate the young man.

Before he could stop himself, Teviathan had pressed himself against Dath'ri, clasping her hands in his instantly. Shame shot through him as he saw the brief moment of exasperation in her eyes. He backed away from the Den'rai, giving her some breathing room.

Dath'ri patted the young man on the shoulder, and then headed back to her room, closing the door after she stepped inside.

Letting out a huff of irritation, Teviathan took it upon himself to finish undressing, settling into bed right after. He slipped beneath the midnight-blue sheets, and closed his eyes. But the want, the _need_ to be close to Dath'ri was driving him mad…and the material brushing against his hardening arousal wasn't helping much either.

Teviathan looked around, confusion taking him over. He turned to his left, as there was a voice coming from that direction.

It was Dath'ri. The young woman gazed at him from beneath her lashes, freezing him where he stood with those beautiful, terrifying purple eyes. She walked up to Teviathan, pressing herself against him upon reaching him.

"Hello, Teviathan," Dath'ri said with a voice laced in passion. She gently licked the sped up pulse in his neck.

The young man held her back. "Dath'ri, what…?" he began.

"What is it, love? This is what you want, is it not?"

"Well, yes. But…"

Dath'ri silenced him with a deep, passionate kiss. She gasped when she felt Teviathan caress her breasts. Her body trembled when he brushed his fingers against the small triangle of dark-green hair that hid her jeweled secrets.

The last thing she said to him made everything spin.

Teviathan opened his eyes to the darkness of his room. He thought about what had been said before he'd woken himself from such a wonderful and strange dream. The last thing she had said.

Take me.

Chapter Two

Daemon groaned when he saw the amount of paperwork that was piled on the desk in his study. He made his way over to the desk and sat down, not wanting to acknowledge the first page of writing that stared him in the face. Having no other options, he began reading.

Lucivar turned the corner and ran into Teviathan, who had a very frustrated expression on his face. He raised an eyebrow, and then chuckled. "Gotten under your skin already, has she?"

Teviathan glared at the Eyrien, his ice-blue eyes glazed over, gaze never faltering. His black hair was pulled back into a braid with a strip of leather holding it together at the end. He wore a silver silk shirt with a black velvet blazer over it. His nails were painted black, as well was the color of his eyeliner, which made his startling eyes downright frightening. A black top hat adorned his head, tilted slightly to the side to hide a part of his face.

"Good Morning, Lucivar," Teviathan said in a voice that unnerved the Eyrien.

"Teviathan," Lucivar replied cautiously. "How are you?"

The young man gave him a chilling smile, and then shrugged nonchalantly. He then continued making his way down the corridor until he got to Jaenelle's room, which had an Ebony shield around it. Letting out an exasperated sigh, the young man knocked on the door vehemently. The door swung open…and there stood an almost-completely naked Daemon.

Daemon's glazed eyes analyzed the young man, assessing. He then spoke. "What do you want, Teviathan?"

"I need to speak with Jaenelle," he said.

"The Lady is…busy…right now. You'll have to come back at some other time."

Teviathan growled. " I need to speak with her…now."

Daemon bared his teeth in a feral smile. And, before he could respond, Jaenelle appeared, fully dressed and relaxed.

The woman looked at Teviathan. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"I need to speak with you, Lady," Teviathan replied. He removed his hat and bowed courteously.

Jaenelle nodded and ushered the young man into her formal sitting room, Daemon practically breathing down Teviathan's neck. She sat down, focusing her attention on Teviathan and what he came to talk about.

The young man frowned, huffed, and then frowned again momentarily before taking a deep breath and beginning. He explained about Dath'ri and about how she was doing thus far, as well as other things. Once this was said, he stopped speaking so that Jaenelle, if she had anything to say, could say it.

Daemon moved closer to his wife, and glared at the young man. He didn't like the look in Teviathan's eyes, which, of course, didn't help anything.

After listening to what Teviathan had to say, and several moments of silent contemplation, Jaenelle spoke.

"You are not from our world, Teviathan," she said. "You are not Blood, nor do you posses any Jewels."

"I am fully aware of this, Lady. However, that should not be a hindrance to the reason I'm here."

The woman nodded in agreement. She stood up, and then waited for Teviathan to rise until she led him to the door. In truth, she was grateful that he trusted her enough to speak about this.

Teviathan sped back to his chambers, snarling softly. His back muscles began to twitch again, harder than before. He stepped into his room and slammed the door. Falling to his knees, the young man trembled, violently ready to embrace the pain. Grabbing the chalice that sat atop the dresser, he squeezed it hard enough to shatter, blood dripping from his hands where the shards of metal cut him.

"Damn you, Keeper of Death!" Teviathan yelled, hoping that this particular Keeper would hear him. "You lied to me! YOU LIED! You swore that after I was done, I could…that you'd…

"I'VE SERVED MINE, KEPT MY SIDE! LET ME DIE!"

No answer, nothing.

Teviathan let out a sound that didn't sound the least bit human or sane. He fell to his knees once more, wings tearing his back open, blood specks plastering themselves around the room. Cursing viciously, the young man wrapped his arms around his knees, pulling them to his chest. He sat there, shaking. His wings closed around him protectively, shielding him from the outside world, but never from the memories. He would never be free from the memories that raped his mind, raped his soul.

Teviathan screamed.

Dath'ri looked over the outfit she was wearing whilst standing in front of the mirror. She wore a black tunic that gently hugged her body, a pair of black trousers fit to subtly reveal her figure, and a pair of black ankle boots with a slight heel. After looking herself over, the young woman walked towards the door that separated hers from Teviathan's. When she opened it, her eyes widened in disbelief at what she saw.

In the middle of the floor sat Teviathan, who was shielded by his wings.

"Teviathan?" Dath'ri said; her voice was laced with concern.

The young man pulled his wings tighter around himself, not wanting to acknowledge anyone. He breathed in deeply, shakily. His head snapped up when he sensed the Den'rai standing in front of him.

"Is everything all right?" the young woman inquired. "You don't look—"

She was cut off when Teviathan pulled her down and into his lap and held her dangerously close to him.

The young man's eyes, which were glazed with animosity, softened and welled up with tears that spilled over, rolling down his face and onto his shirt. His body was shaking from his silent crying. He realized that Dath'ri was stroking his hair, lost in deep thought.

I wonder why Teviathan is so overcome with such sorrow, Dath'ri thought. What could have brought this on so suddenly? I did not think that he was the kind of person who would show his emotions, regardless if he was alone or not. Guess I was wrong. He just seems to be so stoic and cold usually, so I don't understand…

She was torn from thought when Teviathan had taken her hands in both of his, and squeezed gently. Her heart stopped for the briefest of moments as he gazed at her, eyes filled with…something. And that something is what had left her breathless and unable to move. When she finally found her voice, she spoke. "Are you all right?"

"I don't know," replied Teviathan. His eyes shone with that…something…again. He released Dath'ri, and stood up. Suddenly…

'This is what you want, is it not?' the young woman had asked.

Teviathan backed away from Dath'ri, his eyes drowning in awe and incredulity. He swallowed hard.

Take me.

The young man blinked several times in order to get the current image out of his head.

Take me.

Oh, how he wanted to scream. He wanted to scream in terror; wanted to scream with joy and excitement; wanted to scream the images that teased his mind, away. With more haste than intended, Teviathan walked Dath'ri to the adjoining door that led to her room, and ushered her in while trying like mad not to shove the Den'rai in to the bedroom.

Dath'ri, when she was standing in the doorway, looked at the young man with a raised eyebrow, silently questioning.

Oh, how so desperately Teviathan wanted to slam the door, so that he would no longer have to look at her for a while! Damn! Damn it all, he thought.

"There are several things that I must get taken care of, Dath'ri," Teviathan lied. "So, I'll have to fellowship with you at a later time, okay?"

"Uh…okay," said Dath'ri said, shrugging her shoulders.

With that out of the way, Teviathan, not meaning to, of course, slammed the door, and locked it. A scream of rage mixed with excitement escaped his lips.

"Teviathan?" the young woman said, concern saturating her voice, as she got ready to grab the doorknob.

"Do not come in here," he said, aware, too late, that his voice held a pleading tone.

There was now silence from behind the door. Deliriously grateful for it, the young man leaned against the wall, eventually sliding to the floor, and stayed there. He was Kythian, a race that was so far gone, that no one believed that they had even walked the earth. Being one of the very, very few that still survived, he had been living in the shadows, embracing the night as a familiar friend, and having contact with nil if anyone at all. All of his life he had been sneered at, and looked upon as an abomination, some sort of monster. From the moment he was born, his mother knew that he was different from all of the other Kyth. As a child, he was never invited to play with the other children. In fact, due to each of the other parents' fears, he was forbidden to so much as hold a conversation. And then, one day, it happened…

It happened during a tongue lashing from his father, who was so judgmental about him, that he hardly considered him his son. Being so overcome with anger and not knowing how to channel it, dark power coursed through his veins, and the wings tore his back open; they were dripping blood. They were beautiful, black wings.

His father threatened to clip those wonderful means of flight. But, his mother, knowing that her son was a Chosen, forbade it, threatened to leave him if he cut off Teviathan's wings.

One night, late, late at night, a small group of the village men broke into his house and killed his mother. It turned out that the man leading the murder and theft, was his very own father. His mother's last word's burned their way into his skull, never fading…

_Keep your eyes unclouded by hate._

Chapter Three

Jaenelle rounded the corner and wound up bumping into Saetan. She flashed a quick smile before her face contorted into an expression of seriousness.

"I need to speak with you. It's about Teviathan," the woman added as Saetan's eyebrow began to rise. She sighed heavily. "I am worried for him, Saetan. He came to me a few days ago, and told me about how he's been hurting."

"What do you mean 'hurting'?" inquired Saetan.

"He just said that he was hurting. He did not say whether or not it was physically, emotionally…" Jaenelle shrugged a bit. "I don't know much more than that."

The High Lord crossed his arms over his chest. "But perhaps Dath'ri does."

"Why would she know?"

"She's the only person he spends his time around when he's not huddled in his chambers," Saetan guessed. "We could start from there. Or perhaps…?"

"No," Jaenelle said quickly. "We have no right to invade either persons' privacy."

Saetan nodded in agreement, his thoughts drifting off as to why Teviathan was hurting, and from what.


End file.
